I don't own Final Space.
Harp had honestly thought she'd die right away. She felt the hot flaming breath of the snake god before her, its horrible gaping maw widening even more, her older sister fearfully screaming her name, begging them to let her go, for her to run. All she could do was freeze, hiding her face, looking away as if she would just awaken from this nightmare, safe in her bed at home. Her parents had betrayed her. She saw their faces as the guards ripped her away from them. They were smiling. They knew she would perish. Both of their daughters, to be killed. And they were happy. They made her sister watch.
Harp felt sick to her stomach after falling on hard, uneven ground. Uncovering her face and rubbing her head, it came as a shock that she was still alive. ...Was she? She stood up, shakily, wobbling on her feet. There was dim light from flaming lamps. It looked like the interior of a building, though veiny purple growths covered every inch of the stone walls and arches. It felt humid. Uncomfortably so. Was this the afterlife? Another dimension?
...Hell?
As her senses adjusted to this disturbing and unfamiliar world, Harp heard loud moaning behind her, and whirled around to see a gruesome sight.
Her people. So many people. Even some of their pets. Clothes tattered. Injured, Starved. Falling apart. Their eyes were all rolled back, though a few had lost their eyes. Their jaws hung open, and many were clearly missing bones. Their teeth and skin were rotting. Internal organs were showing.
Harp shrieks. The most horrifying part was that a few could still speak. They were begging her to kill them. Looking directly at her.
This was exactly what they had been chosen for.
The child began to yell, cry, kick and punch the walls until her toes and fists bled, shout for her parents- no, they wanted this to happen to you, stop-
...Shout for her sister. Did Werthrent take Ash?
She waited a few minutes, shaking. No sign of Ash. She could not see what was happening outside, nor hear anything. She waited a few minutes more, for nothing.
Ash had escaped, perhaps? Had she lashed out and Werthrent deemed her unworthy to be sacrificed? ...Did the guards kill her somehow?
No, Ashy was strong, Harp believed. She must have escaped.
...And left her behind.
Looking back at what used to be people behind her, she noticed a much older girl bearing a spear, stepping cautiously among the decay. Her clothes were ripped and beaten but not as much as the rest, her pale purplish-blue hair was tied back in a braid, and her eyes weren't rolled back, though they were bloodshot. A triangle was painted on her forehead, a square beneath her eye. When she looked to her left, Harp gasped.
She only had a right eye. The left side was a blank stretch of skin.
The gasp was not in fearful shock, but more of soft surprise. Ash only had one eye, too. This girl's eye was on the opposite side of Ash's, though. She would have loved to tell Ash she wasn't the only one...
The girl's single red-hued eye drifts to Harp, the mild annoyance in her face melting into concern. Harp shyly backs into the wall as the lady approached her slowly, silent. This woman was at least a foot taller than her parents.
"Hey, kid," the woman starts, getting on her knees, "...you must be new here."
Her voice was rough and a bit scratchy- a hint of some sort of accent, but calm. She was missing a few teeth and her ribs were poking out of her uniform.
Harp's throat was dry. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out. The lady wasn't fazed.
"This place is not very good at first impressions. I'm Mag. I've been here for a while. I know this place like the back of my hand. And I have a shelter, y'see. There are children here just like you, sacrificed to Werthrent. I can help you. Can you tell me your name?"
"...Harp," the child answers, quiet and hesitant, "Harp Graven."
"Hello, Harp! Magdelaina Auber... Auber..." She falters.
"Sweet Sentella, what this place can do to your memory. Magdelaina, at your service. How old are ya?"
"Seven. Tomorrow is my birthday."
"Ah," Mag's voice faltered a bit, clearly her heart was shattered by the thought of another little life lost to the beast before it even had the chance to truly live.
"I've been here since I was 16. I would be... about 21, now. Happy early birthday, for the record, sweetheart."
Harp's nose crinkled in disgust at the reminder of her mother's final word to her.
21? Mag looked much older than that... of course, Harp was a polite girl. She wouldn't say that out loud. Ashy, on the other hand...
"Thank you. Please don't call me sweetheart."
"Sorry. There's a lot of other children here. Force of habit. Won't you come with me?"
Mag held out her bony hand. There wasn't anywhere else to go, so Harp took it and began walking along with Mag, fearfully treading over bodies. Some followed her gaze, gasping for breath in a struggle to talk.
"What happened to these people?" Harp inquired. Mag didn't answer.
"Your hands are bleeding, kiddo, and there's some leaking through your boots, too," Mag exclaims, changing the subject (though she had a valid reason to, Harp reasoned). "We'll get you patched up, pronto."
The pair continued to walk through the 'building', Mag gently pushing away zombified people blocking their path and moaning at them. She looked pained as she did, and lifts up Harp and carries her instead when she was too afraid to touch a zombie in front of her.
Mag makes it to a large, loosened stone beneath one of the wooden pillars holding up a lamp, pushing it aside with one hand. Harp marvels at how strong she is, despite the feeble appearance.
Mag gestures for Harp to enter the cavity below, which she reluctantly does. Mag follows suit, pulling the stone back into place and effectively sealing the entrance behind her.
"We call this our 'secret base' of sorts," Mag chuckles halfheartedly.
Within the cavity was a small, dark room lit by a sad looking lamp that seemed to sputter with every shred of light it could muster out. It sat upon a makeshift stone table. Around that table sat six other children, each of them varying in decrepit appearances. The youngest of them had to be a few years younger than Harp, three or four, and was the only one that looked remotely healthy, with only a few stains on her clothes. She was probably 'new', too.
"Hello, everyone! I found a new member of our, er... little family," Mag announces. The six children smile weakly at Harp, who, with no context as to what is happening, nervously smiles and waves back.
"I know it hasn't been long since we lost our Jordan, but we can still honor his memory with all the future members we'll find," Mag begins. Harp can only react to that familiar name for a moment before the other children greet her.
"This is Harp," Mag introduces.
"Harp? As in, Harp Graven?" One of the children echo, their voice hoarse. An emaciated girl steps forward, barely recognizable. She wore her long, sea-green hair in pigtails. It used to be so silky and soft, and Harp distinctly remembered Ash, though a few years their senior, envied how pretty it was- but now it was a rat's nest, blackened by grime.
"It's me, Zora. From school. Do you remember?"
Harp gasps. She hadn't seen her classmate for a year since her "grand surrender". Their teachers had claimed they were so proud of her moving forward, that she was perfectly fine and the rest of the class should not fear and hope to follow in her footsteps...
This was not fine.
Harp takes Zora by the shoulders, gently shaking her.
"What's happened to you!?"
Zora gazes at Harp sadly, her half-lidded eyes drooping.
"You don't know yet?" she asks softly.
The sputtering light flickers upon the faces of all the children, the shadows playing across their sunken, skeletal features.
Mag sighs as she rips off a part of her sleeve to wrap the fabric around Harp's wounds.
"I haven't told her, I just found her! Sweet Sentella," she mumbles again, "I don't like doing this... I'm sorry, kid. I need to ask you to calm down as you listen to the truth."
Harp figured what was happening- to the people outside and her peers in the room.
She knew she'd die, but they promised it would bear no pain.
There was no embrace. No eternity of joy. Those were lies from cowards that would offer up the lives of their own loved ones to a monster.
She had her suspicions, but she would never imagine it being so very slow.
"So, here's the deal," Mag begins, her tone low and sullen, "we are all trapped inside of Werthrent, the fire serpent. We were always taught, as children that he was most benevolent. But that's a lie. It always was a fat, heaping turd of a lie.
"Time does not exist here. None of you can biologically age. I've been keeping track of time and all, but technically, here, you'll never be able to grow up properly. You do not have to eat or drink, either. What Werthrent does, is drain us of everything we have. It is slow. It is agonizing.
"Imagine a toothpaste tube," Mag suggests, "how much you can get out when it is new. But using it for a prolonged period of time, it becomes harder and harder to squeeze out any more, and the tube becomes flat because you've used up so much of its contents. That's what Werthrent does with our health. He feeds off of us like a parasite until we have nothing left to give.
"The people you saw outside are only zombies now. Most of them were adults that willingly sacrificed themselves in the belief that they would be rewarded. I would try to help them, but they're long gone. Besides, adults have a tendency to be so brainwashed by their ideals that they wouldn't have listened to me even if they were well."
"I don't think Werthrent is aware of our secret base. I have noticed that the process of draining is much slower in here than it is outside. You'll be safe here. It's our only option, unfortunately. I'm sorry it's getting cramped. But I feel all too obligated to give every child I find a fighting chance. Maybe one of you will find a way out.
"...There is a small glowing object inside of Werthrent's heart. I can't really tell what it is, but I have reason to believe that is his life source. It holds everything together. It could be what is draining us, and everyone else out there. But it's guarded by a crazy old man. Ol' Septim has been trapped here the longest, as far as I know, but he can still speak in full sentences and everything. I suppose Werthrent 'spared' him because he needs someone to guard his heart. It's his weak spot. But I reckon Septim is suffering the most..."
Mag blinks.
"I digress. Harp, that's what you need to know."
"I...-" Harp starts to sob, choking back vomit from thinking about how gruesome her final fate was going to be.
"Ashy..."
"Oh," Zora rests a hand on Harp's shoulder, "that's right... where is your sister...? Siblings are usually surrendered together," she gestures to a boy and a girl across the table, identical twins, holding each other as if they were their own security.
"She was with me... Mom and Dad made her watch when I was surrendered... she was calling my name."
Harp punches the fleshy pulsing wall of the cavity, tears flowing.
"But she never came with me here. I waited and waited. She left me behind. She's gone."
"Harp..." Mag slowly steps forward towards the child, arms open.
Harp tries to push her away at first, but Mag overpowers her, hugging her tightly.
"Think of it this way, kid," Mag says gently, "if she escaped, your sister is never, ever gonna let you be forgotten in here. And," she adds, a pleasant lilt in her voice, "you can think of us as your new family."
Harp wipes her nose on her sleeve.
"I know this is unfamiliar, and I know you're hurt. But you'll have a legacy out there. Your sister could change the future because of you.
"Now... you've met Zora before, yes? These twins are Niko and Rosaline, this boy is Gabriel, our (second) oldest, this one... we just call them Snake. They won't tell us their real name. And this, our littlest one, is Lyre. She arrived a few days before you."
Harp looks at Lyre with a softer expression, knowing what would happen to her, still just a toddler- and with a name (musically) similar to her own, to boot.
Lyre smiles back at her innocently, pointing.
"Purble," she exclaims, eyeing Harp's short, sloppily self-cut lavender hair.
Harp feels slightly self conscious now, her face flushing a deeper blue, but chuckles lightly, picking up the baby and sitting down in her place. It made her forget what horrible things she'd just heard, if just for a moment.
"I get to be the big sister now, huh?"